Glimmering stars clustered across the evening sky like chaotic blotches of rain on concrete pavements. Beneath it, the city of Zanarkand remained clamouring as it was during the day. Unlike their human counterparts, Pteryx birds had flown back to their nests, deep within the flowering peaks of Mount Gagazet. Residents of the city crowded the streets, refusing to let sleep reign them as the comfort of night burgeoned. They spoke about the latest local Blitzball tournaments, mentioning names of key players who had performed well, and discussing newly introduced technical skills. Misery about the looming war was set aside for fleeting buoyancy.

At the south-eastern part of the city, among many dwellings floating above the sea, was an average-sized boathouse with a mast modelled after half of a butterfly's wings. Within its only bedchamber, two undressed figures lay quietly underneath a plush quilt – one was asleep, and the other was wide awake. The latter was Lenne, who was watching Shuyin, the former, sleeping soundly as if he was nowhere but Spira's one and only safest place. She traced her fingers over one side of his face, and smiled when she began to hear the faint sound of his gentle breathing.

She counted the lashes extending from his eyelids, ran her fingers along the lines of his nose and mouth, admiring the intricate details of his facial features that she came to appreciate throughout almost a year of spending time with him. Her heart was swelling with an intense feeling of affection that stung her eyes with tears. There were many nights like this when she would feel dispirited about their future or lack thereof. She would fantasize about running away with him – away from the coming war and away from their obligations, just to live someplace else where they could start anew. At times, she even found herself enraged with fate, those Worshipped, and any other forces that had drawn her to Shuyin, the one person she thought was created to share the same soul as hers… only to give their union endless uncertainties.

Lenne rose, wrapping herself in a spare blanket before hovering by the wide windows covering one side of the bedchamber walls. She studied her beloved city – its many towering structures and sturdy corridors on top of the calm seawater, then started humming a melody that had been meandering through her mind as of late.

"New song?"

She glanced at Shuyin and found him looking back at her drowsily. "It's meant to be a song about you… but I haven't thought of the lyrics," she answered, her heart fluttering at the sight of his warm smile.

He left the bed to put on a pair of trousers, and made his way to a silver pianoforte placed at the south-eastern corner of the chamber. "I'll play for you," he said, tapping his fingers against the ivory keys, producing the same tune Lenne was humming out of sheer memory.

Lenne's humming resumed, carrying tender musical notes across the room like the sound of a mother's lullaby to her child. All else in the chamber seemed to come alive by the maudlin tune: the slow swaying of curtains by the late spring breeze; gleaming lights soaking the chamber in the soft orange colour of twilight; and the smell of saltwater from the sea wafting in the air. Shuyin's attentiveness and artful performance eased her improvisation, enabling them to reach an effortless and almost instinctive melodic harmony. She hummed and he played… until their eyes were fixed onto one another, their shared moments and imagined future together flashing in their minds.

When she reckoned that there was nothing else to add into the melody, she brought her humming to an end and all together ceased Shuyin's piano playing. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, so she turned away, back to gazing at the scenery that stretched beyond the chamber. "Looks like I won't be able to finish the song before the war begins," she said, making the most effort not to let her voice tremble.

She heard Shuyin approaching and soon found herself engulfed under the comfort of his strong and reassuring arms. He rained soothing kisses along the back of her neck, pushing her to give in and cry. "You'll finish the song… and I'll stop the war before it can even start."

"What… do you mean?" she asked, her voice weaved in confusion.

Her query was left unreturned as Shuyin pulled her back into bed, and made love to her again in ways that led her to drown in pleasure so profound that she believed only the two of them mattered in the whole wide world.

The sun was shining bright in the clear blue sky, casting shadows of towering structures onto walkways zigzagging through the city. Waves rolled along the sea surface mildly, creating serene sounds of nature that enticed residents to linger outdoors and taste the beauty of late spring. At the Base, a pole was standing tall in the backyard, from where the Zanarkand flag was soaring high in the wind. A group was gathered in the vicinity, clad in the customary purple attires of the city's Summoners.

Away from the group was a woman who stood at their fore. Sewn at the hems of her robe were prayer verses written in the ancient language, which marked her as greater in rank. Held firmly in her right hand was a sceptre, crowned with gold metals wrought into the three heads of a Chimera – a creature that was once believed to be a loyal companion to the celestial man with Juggernaut horns. When she raised the sceptre above her head, Lenne and her peers began to belt out the song for a Sending in its new peculiar tune.

The woman spun the sceptre in an entrancing circular motion; her legs were parted, and her body was oscillating to the tune of the song. Her movements were rough and indelicate as if she was summoning demons from the earth below her feet. At times, she would leap up into the air, throwing the sceptre out of her hand and catching it again with precision. When she coiled her body, her eyes rolled shut, while the sceptre was still whirling wildly around her. She danced like Yevon did when he was opening the gateway to the other Zanarkand – a dance that was amply formidable to cut the surrounding seas of the Base with violent ripples.

Once a lifetime ago, Lenne considered the dancing as a bastardized form of what would usually be witnessed during a Sending. It appeared to be devoid of care about respectful communication with those Worshipped. But she quickly learned that past its vulgarity, there were elements of immense dignity arranged into the movements of the dance. A slight mistake would not only cause failure of the ritual but also the tainting of the soul that could bar the dancing Summoner from smooth passage to the afterlife.

Singing Summoners like herself were not any different. Extreme care was required in achieving the correct pitch and pronunciations, as well as harmonization with the dance. Errors were best avoided to escape from eternal damnation, where they would be forced to live permanently as fiends after their physical death. Almost a year had been spent by Lenne and her peers on painstaking training to reach the mastery.

Hours of practice went by, until the sun was at its peak, when Lenne and her peers were finally allowed to unwind. They sat in a row, leaning against the railings that bound the yard, hoping for the breeze blowing from the sea to cool them down. Lenne ingested her piece of bread, filling her hungry stomach while her mind pondered over what the city would look like in a few months… when war would have already descended.

"I can't wait for the war to end," said a man with a button nose, whose name Lenne recognised as Sigge. Fatigue was outlined on his face as he peeled and ate the apple in his hand. "Once it ends, we no longer need to train so much."

"I doubt that our training would end," Lenne disagreed. "Madam Esmana would have us on our feet in no time for further training to prepare for unsuspecting attacks on the city… or more battles."

Sigge sighed in anguish. The dark hollowness underneath his eyes deepened. Lenne wished she had not spoken so forthrightly. None of them needed to be constantly reminded of the bleakness of the future; the burning in their throats was enough to stifle them.

Malin was now looking at them with shifty eyes, as if afraid that others nearby would overhear what she had to say. "Have you heard…?" she asked, leaving her question unfinished.

"Heard what?" Lenne countered.

Malin's sped through her answer, "About the rogue Warriors." She looked over her shoulders, then added in a whisper, "They're planning to stop the war."

The food Lenne swallowed felt hard in her throat. Her mind swiftly thought of Shuyin… and the passing remark he made that they were both deprived of speaking further.

"They're infiltrating Bevelle's Headquarter three days from now," Malin mumbled, drawing closer to both Lenne and Sigge so they could hear her. "Supposedly, Lord Zako and other high ranking officials won't be around to guard the Headquarter. They'll be occupied with the Ronsos for some… business."

"No, that's too good to be true," Lenne said, thinking aloud. She found herself angry with Shuyin for involving himself in such a reckless scheme. "Lord Zako is not a fool to ever leave his city vulnerable."

"But the plan was suggested by Lord Tashi. There must be some truth in it," Malin insisted, defensiveness brewing in her tone.

"Lord Tashi?" Sigge repeated. "He's Lord Yevon's scribe. Why is he working with the rogue Warriors?"

"He's Lord Yevon's informant," Malin corrected him, only to quickly hide her mouth behind her hands with horror when she realized too late that the classified information was never meant to be disclosed.

"You haven't answered my question, Malin. Why is he working with the rogue Warriors?"

"He's working for both Lord Yevon and the rogue Warriors… he said it's best that way."

Sigge narrowed his eyes, "How do you know about all of this?"

"Guohu is one of them… the rogue Warriors," Malin murmured, mentioning the name of her fiancé.

Sudden overcast blanketed the sky, warning them of a coming rain. Fish swam to the surface of the sea, heading towards wider freedom, or their doom by the beaks of Pteryx birds and the nets of fishermen. The Summoners were all ushered back into the Base, where their training would continue in the auditorium located at the eastern wing.

Sigge and Malin's conversation ended abruptly with neither of them knowing what else to say. Lenne lingered close, restlessly musing over a million things in her mind. "No… something's not right," she finally said, bringing the other two with her to a pause.

She let the wave of other Summoners walk by until the three of them were alone in the eastern wing corridors. "I think it's a trap," she said.

Sigge lifted an eyebrow. "And how so?"

Lenne shook her head. She held a theory in mind but thought it was wiser not to enunciate it for fear of its truth. "My intuition… that's all I can say."

Sigge and Malin exchanged a glance; the former shrugged impersonally, while the latter appeared undeterred. Their clashing personalities never seemed more obvious. It was a duel between shameless Sigge who lived daringly and became a singing Summoner out of whim, and curious but straight-laced Malin who preferred staying out of trouble.

Sigge's gaze shifted to Lenne and a laidback smile curved the corners of his lips, "Then I guess… we'll have to stop them."

His willingness to take her side was a relief but Malin's support was equally important. Lenne peered into her eyes, pleading for her understanding. Malin's soft spot for Lenne was ever more deluging, fracturing her defence by each passing minute, until it came completely undone. "Fine. I'll try to reason with Guohu," she concurred, letting out the longest of sighs.

And I… Shuyin.

The trio walked into the auditorium, heard their names called and saw arms waving to beckon them to climb onto the stage. But all Lenne could think about was Shuyin.